


Supernova & Starsworn

by Maybeanartist02



Category: Last Legacy (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Fantasy, slowburn, trans felix
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25648390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybeanartist02/pseuds/Maybeanartist02
Summary: Anne oversleeps on day 1 of Fancon, thus missing the first event of the day. She spots a fellow Cosplayer sneaking into the main room, and in pursuing them, finds far more than she had bargained for.
Relationships: Felix (Last Legacy | Fictif)/Original Female Character(s), Felix/Player | Cosplayer (Last Legacy | Fictif)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. Meeting Felix Escellun

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of oneshots & scene rewrites (due to the MC’s apparent lack of emotional maturity). Some may eventually be made into comics, but I make no promises.

I run a hand through my hair, sighing as I back away from the conference room. Of course I missed the _one_ event I _really_ wanted to go to.

I press my back to the door, eyes drifting to the ceiling.

“Well, I guess I could go back to my hotel until the showcase opens…” my musings drift off as I spot a girl with short hair and an intricate Cosplay weave her way into the roped off Art Showcase.

I stare for a second. Then, I glance around, checking for other witnesses.

…then I follow her inside. 

Immediately, I’m greeting with familiar cardboard cutouts of characters. One in particular stands out—Magister Escell. The internet is obsessed with him, but I couldn’t think less of him if I tried.

As I slowly venture deeper, eyes glued to every poster, cutout, and recreation of items, I see no sign of the other cosplayer I’d initially followed. It’s not like me to break rules, so if I was going to get caught I had hoped I wouldn’t be along.

“Where…--” as I whisper the word, I hear a light _klunk_ , and turn on my heel. There, on the floor at my feet is the Astrolabe—a weapon from the promo material—a rose-gold spear with blue-pink-silver decorations and a sharpened blade at each end.

…and something compels me to touch it.

…so I do.

There’s a bright white, blinding light that obscures my vision, and suddenly the world is shifting around me. I grow dizzier every passing second, until I finally lose grip on my consciousness completely.

What feels like only a few moments later I cough myself awake, weakly rolling over, resulting in my cheek pressed against stone flooring. Looking around, I can see the dark clouds of a storm clearing outside a window, and big white…round lights, dancing around the air. The wind howls eerily as the clouds reveal a reddish moon.

A low, hoarse voice draws my attention, choked with emotion as the person it belongs to speaks:

“Five years I have dreamt of this day,” he says, “when at last we would be reunited.”

The man—who has to be my age, maybe a year younger—kneels on the floor in front of me. His black hair (which looks like it has a hint of violet) is shoulder-long, and entirely unkept. He has reddish-brown skin, and startling silver-green eyes.

“Yet,” he says, now smirking, “it seems neither fate nor the stars can keep us apart.”

He intertwines our fingers, and a million emotions are reflected in those captivating eyes. He closes his eyes, and continues.

“I never stopped looking for you. I never gave up.”

He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the knuckles. I find my cheeks heating considerably, embarrassment stunning me into silence.

He’s obviously mistaken me for someone.

“Oh, Rime, how I’ve missed you!”

Not a second after he’s proclaimed this, he wraps me into a hug that feels solidifying, but also as if he were afraid to break me. Whoever it is he was expecting, they must have meant the world to him.

“I’m sorry,” I croak, gently nudging him off me, “but we’ve never met.”

His eyes widen, and he backs away a little. “what?”

“Um, yeah, no,” I say, a strained smile on my lips as I shake my head, “I…I don’t even know where I am. Or…or if I’m dead or just dreaming—I…” I snap my mouth shut, and sigh, “Sorry. I’m not. Not who you were hoping for.”

He looks at me, eyes widening as his lips press together.

“You’re not Rime.”

I give him a weak smile. “No, I’m not. I’m…Anne.”

He frowns.

“Um…and I’d actually like to know where on earth I am? And…who you are. If you. if you don’t mind.”

He purses his lips.

“You’re not on Earth,” he shakes his head, “you’re in Astarea.”

My eyes go wide, and I feel my face pale.

“Asta…rea? Like…from Last Legacy?”

“Last what?” he scoffs, “is that some book from Earth?”

I wince, “It’s, ah. Hard to explain. Um. Sure.” I glance to the floor, then to him.

“First,” he straightens, “how did you get here? That shouldn’t be possible.”

“You’re telling me,” I grumble, then address him, “I was at a convention, in the art showcase. There was this…uh…spear. The Astrolabe—this weapon from the new game—”

I falter, cheeks warming as I realize I’m about to start ranting.

“…I touched it,” I sigh, “and now I’m here.”

“Bloody hells.”

He sighs, slowly standing.

“Forgive me for my forwardness, but you are not who I was hoping for.”

I shrug, “Yeah, I figured.” I bite my lip. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“You are from Earth?” he asks.

I nod.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “It seems I’ve made a grave mistake.” He clears his throat, “Then, I should introduce myself.” He takes a deep breath, holding a hand to his chest he then bows with a flourish.

“My name is Felix Iskandar Escellun. House unaffiliated. Necromancer—” at the mention of his magical area of expertise, I perk up, immediately intrigued.

“Necromancer?” I ask.

He smirks, “I trust you know at least what that is, no?”

I huff, “Duh,” as I replay his introduction in my mind. Another part of it sticks out. “Escellun…not like, Magister Escell, right?”

He frowns, and I fear I’ve made a mistake.

“Unfortunately yes,” he hums, tapping his finger on his chin, “though he has not been a Magister since before I was born…”

I hum, “I see.” In an attempt to lighten his somber mood, I stand, and promptly curtsie. “I am Anne Mary Nova. House nonexistent. Barista and freelancer Cosplayer, Artist & Writer!~”

He blinks at me, then grins. “Well. Barista, what realm do you hail from again?”

“Realm?” I echo, then realize what he means, and my lips form an ‘o’, “Oh! Um…Earth, I guess?”

…then it finally sinks in.

“Wait,” I whisper, “Wait I’m not. Wait this can’t be? I can’t…actually be here…in the game—” I look around frantacially, sniffing the air, hoping for something that could allude to this being an elaborate prank, a stage just to trick me, but—

A white sphere tickles my nose as it passes, making me sneeze, and realize with a sinking feeling—

I’m actually here.

My breathing picks up, unwillingly, as Felix begins to pace anxiously. I clutch at my chest, willing my heart to calm. I’m not sure if I’m scared, or excited—or plain horrified.

_How am I here?_

“Am…am I _dead_?” I ask, “is…is this the afterlife?”

He huffs, eyes focused on the horizon, “is this cesspool truly how you imagine heaven?” he scoffs, eyes glaring at his shoes as he kicks a rock, “mildew, rubble, me—utterly humiliated.” He pauses, then smiles as a slight blush decorates his cheeks. And though his voice drips with sarcasm, he is clearly flustered as he speaks:

“Although, I suppose I should be flattered you discerned anything divine about me.”

I chuckle, brushing hair out of my face with a smile in an attempt to hide my panic.

“This isn’t some afterworld,” he clarifies, eyes focused on me, “simply another realm, parallel to yours.”

I nod, “I see.” I glance around, at the white whisps whispering through the air. “are those…normal here? Whatever they are…”

“Those are spirits,” he explains, “and you can only see and hear them because of my…” he winces, “failed…spell. Normally, only those who’ve experienced death firsthand can see them.”

I hum, gently touching a passing spirit which lights up at my touch. Technically speaking…my heart has stopped before, and had to be “restarted”. I wonder if that counts.

“So…I’m not dead?” I ask.

He shakes his head, “Sleep, and death, the void too, all share similarities, but yes, you are very much alive.” He smirks, “take my word for it, as someone who has died once or twice before.”

I quirk a brow, “once or twice?” I question, “I feel like I’m missing details here.”

“you believed me rather quickly,” he says, a little surprised, “how odd.”

I shrug, walking to a nearby balcony, “it’s not unheard of on Earth, no matter how slim the possibility.”

He huffs, following me.

“On an unrelated note,” I muse, “you seem very into death, Felix.” I tilt my head, “that a necromancer thing or…just your morbid self?”

He scoffs, raking a hand through his hair, “Me? Morbid? You insult me, dear Barista.” He shrugs, crossing his arms, “Death has undeservedly bad reputation. People fear what they don’t understand.”

I sigh, leaning against the stone railing, “ain’t that the truth.

He quirks his brow, as if trying to understand which statement I’m referring to, but he shakes his head in favor of explaining, “I want to unravel death’s mysteries. Like these decanted spirits!” he gestures to a nearby sphere.

“Decanted?”

“Vestiges of the lingering dead,” he explains.

I nod, “I see…”

Felix wanders to a spirit, closing his hands around it.

“When my spell malfunctioned,” he says, urging me closer with a nod, “these spirits became visible to all.” 

I come closer, and when I lean in, he opens his hands, revealing an iridescent spirit hovering between his fingers. I can’t fake the awe in my eyes, nor play it off. The spirit is beautiful, and it takes my breath away.

“Ah such beauty,” Felix sighs as I follow the light reflecting on him to his face.

He’s looking at me.

When he sees me notice, he goes very red, “the Spirit! Of course! Not…er…” he shakes his head. “All this is to say, death can be quite beautiful.”

I nod, “It is.” I falter. “Wait, so does this mean you become…light?”

He shakes his head, “not necessarily. Spirits take many forms.”

I smirk, quirking a brow at him, “you’re not a spirit, are you?”

“Not yet,” he says with a dangerous glint in his eyes and a smile, “Spirits are not whole souls,” he continues, and I hang onto every word, “they are more akin to residue…”

“So, like leftovers?”

“Something like that,” he says with a nod. “I’d love to lecture you on the nature of death, souls and spirits, but we have not the time.”

“No?” I ask, a little disappointed, “we could make a little time.”

He smirks over his shoulder as he walks back into the room, “perhaps later,” he says as I follow him.

“did you learn all this at magic school?” I ask, faintly recalling a mention of some academy in the game.

“Indeed, but they did not teach me necromancy,” he explains.

“Why?”

He huffs a laugh, “for the same reason you can’t learn arson or thievery.”

I cross my arm, cocking my hip, “it’s illegal.”

“Very.”

He sighs, “I attended a prestigious academy, but look where it got me. Dredging for the dead in this dreary temple.”

I shrug, “It happens. School’s pretty useless after a certain point anyway.”

Felix seems perplexed at my comment, if his quirked brow and pursed lips are anything to go off. He shakes his head.

“either way, if my old Professors could see me, they’d have a good laugh,” he says glumly. I frown.

“Well, you’ve clearly got the skills needed to do your own research,” I smile, “not everyone can say that.”

He rolls his eyes, “you flatter me, Barista,” he clears his throat, “in any case—” he glances to the door, then to me, “—those bridges are burnt…and we must get moving.”

“I’m going to assume,” I drawl, “there’s some dumb reason that necromancy is illegal. And a bad stigma around those who practice it.”

“Naturally,” he nods, “many think necromancers are death obsessed egomaniacs who wish to become Liches or immortal.”

“But you’re different.”

He grins, “Naturally.”

I laugh dryly, “if you say so.”

“We really should get going,” he says.

“You brought me here,” I say instead, “so you can get me home?”

“Yes,” he nods, then looks away, “maybe. Hopefully.”

I purse my lips, “seems legit.”

To be honest though, I think I’d have nothing against staying here. 

It’s a distraction from my problems back home.

“I need your relic to do that.”

“The Astrolabe?” I shrug, “Sure. How do we find it?”

“Find…?”

“It disappeared when I touched it.” I shrug, “no clue where it is.”

He pales, opens his mouth, then closes it.

“That…complicates things,” he mutters, then hums, tapping his chin.

Just then, the door bangs, and shouting is heard as the handle rattles.

“Let’s shed those pesky guards first,” he says, smirking at the door, then at me, “Shall we?”

“are you wanted!?” I ask, a little freaked out.

“Oh no,” he assures me, and I sigh, “simply Trespassing.”

“Felix!”

He chuckles, “the storm may have been a tad much, but I do love a good show.”

“Well,” I shrug, “I can respect that.”

He arches his arm through the air, and a circular surface appears. The image within is vague, and I can’t make it out.

“Here, though the Portal!”

I nod, “Right. You know where it goes, right?”

When my eyes meet his, he looks away with a pout. “Yes.”

“So no,” I mutter, then grimace, “excellent.”

“It goes somewhere safe,” he assures me, handing me my bag, seemingly having appeared from thin air, “or to someone. Hurry. It’s difficult to keep open, you know.”

I grab my bag, “Right. Don’t get caught.”

He smirks, “Naturally I won’t.”

And then I hop through a rippling surface—

And I’m falling.


	2. Anisa Anka & Anne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne falls into Anisa's arms--literally.

I should have been panicking long before now, but only as the cold steel of a woman’s sword touches my chin, do I realize that this is in fact real—and I could very well die here. The aftertaste of grape doesn’t help calm my nerves either. When I had come through the portal, I’d landed on a table, before falling face-first onto the floor.

(yes, It hurt.)

My heart pounds in my chest as the woman above me speaks:

“Where in the world did you come from?”

I am about to say ‘Earth,’ when I think better of it. unfortunately, I can’t think of a satisfying answer for her.

“I…uh. Was teleported from. Somewhere.” I wince, “Well, but before that I was on Earth, in this other world—”

“You’re an interloper, from another realm?” the woman gasps, then sheathes her sword.

That seemed to be the magic key to retract her defenses.

She backs away, gesturing to an armchair next to the fireplace.

“Sit,” she orders, “tell me your name.”

Anisa bends down to pick up the mess I made as I landed on her desk while I walk to the armchair.

When she finally joins me, I look apologetic, “Sorry for destroying your desk,” I brush hair behind my ear, “I’m Anne.”

“You may call me Anisa,” she says with a curt, small bow, “I’m a knight lieutenant on assignment in this region. Where did you acquire your Starsworn uniform, Anne?”

I look down, my lips forming an ‘o’ as I trace a golden button on my cloak. Anisa reaches out, running her fingers over the pattern on my cloak.

“I made it,” I explain, “um. For a convention. Where I am from, this world is part of a game. I just made the costume.” The way she looks at the cloak is the same way I look at old pictures of my family—longing.

“Why?” I ask.

She smiles at me, “you’re valid talented.” She circles behind me, and I shiver as she slowly retracts her hand. “I thought you may be an elven spy—” as if on queue, the elf ears that we once just fakes, twitch, “--snuck over the Canopus Strait. However your outfit is too ostentatious. And old fashioned.”

I snort, “figures. Well, I tried.”

“It almost seems like you want to be seen,” she hums.

I chuckle, blush rising to my cheeks, “eh. Only if the reception’s positive.”

Anisa crouches next to me, resting her elbows on the arm of the chair. “So. What did you hope to gain by coming here?”

I hum, “This uh…mage, uh, Felix teleported me here. Wherever here is.”

Anisa hums, “this world is Astraea. This town, however, is the town of Mournfall.” She blinks slowly, then smirks, “so, why did Felix summon you here? Are you two in cahoots?” she props her chin on her palm, smiling slightly.

Immediately, my face is burning and I wildly gesturing with hands and head in a ‘no’ fashion.

“What? No, no, no, no! I—I came here by accident! I’ve never met him before now!” I falter, a little sad. “He…mistook me for someone. It was a little awkward. He had this whole speech…”

She stands, “Hmm. Felix has always been theatrical.” She looks at me, “did you know he’s a Starworn?”

My eyes widen, “No…I had no idea,” I look at my lap, then to Anisa again, “I presume you are too?”

She smiles, “Yes, I am. He and I are some of the last remnants of the order.”

“Last remnants?” I echo, “what happened?”

Anisa frowns, “a big war five years ago. We are two of the few to survive.”

“That explains why you must’ve been shocked to see me,” I muse. She nods.

“You’re wearing our old uniform amongst the ruins of our last stand, of course I was surprised.”

I hum as Anisa leans against her desk.

“I’d actually like to know how Felix brought you here,” she says after a tense moment, drawing my attention, “it shouldn’t be possible, not anymore.” Her eyebrows draw together, “could this be another of his schemes?”

“Schemes?” I echo, quirking a brow with a smile, “that makes it seem like he’s a villain.” I blink, “you know about Earth?”

Anisa nods, “my mom used to travel there sometimes…she’d tell me stories of it sometimes.” She smiles, “she brought a card of a place called Orr-land-o once.” As if noticing she’d revealed something personal, she starts blushing. “Ah. I’m sorry. I started to ramble.”

“No, please, go on,” I say, leaning on the back of the chair, “Orlando, yeah?”

Anisa pauses, blinks, then nods with a smile. “Yes! Sunny beaches and curious, black and white mouse-man creatures! Oh! And those charming smooth, soft, round sea dragons—”

“Dolphins?” I ask with a chuckle.

She claps her hands, nodding excitedly, “Yes! Ohh! How I’d love to try one. I bet they taste amazing!”

I wince, “Yeah, I uh, wouldn’t do that.” I chuckle, “Though…visiting Florida…that’s so normal.” I stand up, “I honestly can’t relate to that…desire for normalcy.”

“Well,” Anisa huffs, “you live there, so it’s normal for you. I presume.”

“I don’t live in Orlando,” I correct, “but I have been there. It’s normal.”

Anisa smiles.

“So, uh,” I begin, scratching the back of my neck, “thanks for uh. Not stabbing me.”

Anisa’s eyes widen, then she laughs, “oh, Anne! I never meant to scare you. I was a little surprised, it’s not everyday a pretty lady materializes on my desk.”

I flush, flustered by her compliment. As she flushes, realizing what she’d said, I resist the urge to fight her opinion and simply murmur, “you’re pretty too…”

She laughs, “I take it Felix accidentally sent you here.”

I bite my lip, “I mean. I’m kinda hoping he didn’t just aimlessly send me through a hastily constructed portal to be honest.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him, sadly,” she huffs, “he’s powerful, but also lacks patience and common sense.”

I hum, nodding.

“I’m afraid we’ll need him if we are to send you home though,” she adds.

I don’t confess that I was hoping to see him again.

Anisa catches me licking and biting my lips, and smiles, pressing a fist to her chest.

“When I was a child I dreamt of rescuing a Princess. I swear I will see you return home. I’ve never broken a promise before.”

I laugh, blushing—hard. Very hard.—hiding my mouth behind my hand. “There’s a first for everything,” I say, then add, "just kidding." 

Anisa doesn't seem to have heard me as she walks to the clothing-rack, which holds a navy cloak.

“First things first: we oughta find that pesky mage.”

As if on queue, there’s a knock on the door. Anisa calls for the person at the door to enter, and it promptly swings open, revealing Felix—being dragged above the floor by two guards.

“Speak of the devil,” Anisa grumbles, then brightly adds, “Good evening, Felix. It’s been too long.”

She nods at the guards, and they let go of him. One of them hands Anisa a report as Felix dusts off his shoulders.

“Well met, Annie,” he says, “I hoped we’d reunite under better circumstances…”

“But charges of trespassing will do the trick,” she grimaces, reading the report.

Felix and my gazes meet, and he pouts, glancing away.

“I’ll have you know I meant to get caught.”

I huff, smirking, “Right,” I cross my arms, “just as much as I meant to forget to water my plants back home.”

He looks at me, seeming regretful until he sees my expression—smiling, a brow quirked, eyes sparkling with humor, presumably—and he relaxes.

“I’m relieved you are in one piece, regardless,” he confesses.

“Why? Was there a chance I wouldn’t be?” I ask, but as he opens his mouth, I shake my head, holding a palm up to silence him, “Nevermind. I don’t want to know.”

He huffs, “portals are simply temperamental. You could’ve landed in some abyssal trench for all I know.”

“s’ that where you landed?”

He rakes a hand through his hair smugly, “a true necromancer never reveals his secrets.”

“it says they found you thrashing in a rosebush,” Anisa clarifies, dryly.

I snort, “graceful.”

“Don’t look smug, Annie,” Felix warns, “it took five of the guards to restrain me.”

“So it says. The healers are working late tonight thanks to you.”

He smiles, “always a pleasure.”

“So,” I say, turning to Felix, “about sending me back.”

“Right,” he nods, solemnly, “I can’t.”

I furrow my brows, then slowly quirk one, arms crossed. “You brought me here.”

“An _accident_ ,” he corrects, impatiently, “brought you here. One I cannot replicate.”

I nod, “Fair. I can accept that.”

“What do you _need_ , Felix?” Anisa asks, slowly, as if talking to a toddler.

“Months,” he nods this way, “maybe years to replicate tonight’s ritual—”

“how about something a little less vague—and long?” I suggest. He glares at me, but the twitch of his lip tells me he’s amused.

“In that case:” he pauses for dramatic effect, “ _Sage_.”

Anisa groans, “Ugh…that moron? Where would we even find him?” but right as she says this, her eyes widen with clarity—and apprehension.

“The Gull,” Felix says, and she groans.

“Ugh. If we must. But Anne should change first—she draws far too much attention this way.” Anisa walks towards the door, “I’ll get you some squire’s clothes. When you’ve changed we can go.”

Anisa leaves before either Felix or I can reply, leaving me to reach out to her, open my mouth, then drop with a sigh.

“I am truly sorry for…my error,” Felix says, “I will see you home, no matter how long it takes.”

I smile, “I appreciate it, but…it came at a good time,” I look at the floor as I lean against a chair, “I was looking for a kind of…escape plan so,” I meet his gaze with a grin, “Thanks.” I look away, “though I’m sorry you didn’t succeed.”

Felix hums, “Yes well,” a deep sigh, “another time, perhaps.”


	3. Sage Lesath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne finally Meets Sage.

After a quick change into red pants and a white button down, we make our way to a shoddy, shady inn known as the Saucy Gull.

As we enter, I look around hastily.

“Do you see Sage?” I ask them, “What’s he even look like?”

Felix clicks his tongue, “big, scruffy, as likely to kill you as he is kiss you.”

“So, kinda like a hit n’ run kinda guy?”

“Just about—” Felix scoffs at the kitchen area, “—do I spy rat racing? By the kitchen!?”

Just then, several patrons lock eyes with Anisa, who in turn, becomes very flustered.

“H-Hello. I hear there’s strong spirits to be had. And, yes, of course, illicit rat racing. My favorite sport.”

She’s so awkward I nearly face palm, when—regrettably—she nudges Felix, urging him to help her.

“Oh dear,” he says in a simping tone, “I believe we’re in the wrong bar. This isn’t the Cheeky Chameleon is it?”

Barely five seconds after the words leave his mouth, someone stands, pointing at us and shouting—

“izzat a knight? We’re busted!”

And chaos erupts.

A fight breaks out, and a woman with a mace attacks Anisa, but she simply side-steps her, then kicks her into a bench, sending both spinning.

Nearby, three thugs approach Felix, who simply opens a portal to an ocean—which they fall through. Smugly, he looks inside and with a wave—“Bon voyage! Enjoy your abyssal trench!”

I notice a guy coming for me and yelp, but Anisa fends him off before he reaches me.

“Go!” she orders, “hide!!”

I nod, running between patrons left and right—

Until I bump into someone’s chest. I look up at a looming man with a bat. He grins at me.

I reach into my cloak, fingers wrapping around the pocket knife I keep on me—just in case.

“S-stay back!” I shout, hoping I sound braver than I feel.

He laughs at me, raising his bat far above his head—

And I duck my head, hands overhead in an attempt to—get away? Something or other—but he can’t even move before I hear him shout in agony.

When I dare to glance up, a man with a long, white braid is in front of me, foot poised up. He most likely kicked him, if I had to guess. The man lowers his foot.

“come on,” he says, glancing at me, “follow me if you want to live.”

I grumble, brows furrowed, unimpressed by his dramatic line, as I follow him out of the entrance room, into a dimly lit hallway.

As the door closes, he turns to me, and eyes my knife.

“My, what a cute toy you’ve got,” he chuckles, “did you plan on poking him to death?”

I huff, pouting, “it’s not meant to kill. It’s for self defense.”

He snorts, “won’t do you much good in ‘ere.” He grins, baring sharp fangs, “Well, if you seek protection, I can provide that for yah.” He jabs a thumb at himself.

I look him up and down.

“I’m…is there a reason you—a sellsword? I’m guessing?—is barely wearing any clothes.”

He pouts, “it’s my brand.” He grins, “half the job’s is branding.”

I scoff, “okay, but you look like you’re about to fuck me for coin, not protect me.”

He winks, “I can do that too, if you’d like.”

I groan, averting my gaze, “no thanks, I’d like to keep my relative innocence, kay?”

He snorts, and I feel a rush of pride at being able to be considered funny, despite my circumstances.

His ears twitch as the volume in the other room rises.

“It’s about to get ugly,” he says, “you should hide.”

I look up and down the hallway.

“In an empty hallway?”

When I meet his gaze, it’s full of mischief.

“I’ve got an idea,” he hums, “but please don’t get mad.”

And just like that he’s crowded me into the wall in 3 big strides. He places his arm on the wall beside me and murmurs:

“…please. Don’t take this the wrong way.”

I wonder silently what the wrong way is, with our previous jokes.

“So your plan is to pretend we’re…” I quirk a brow at him, “…involved with each other?”

He smirks, “not a fan?”

I cross my arms, resting my foot on the wall, “may be a bit less weird if I knew your name.”

He chuckles, “It’s Sage.” he tilts his head to the side, “you scared?”

I pout, furrowing my brows. “Do I look it?”

He chuckles, “You can’t hide things from me, red,” his ears twitch, “Fear’s a good thing. It’ll keep you alive.”

I click my tongue, “Luck’s been enough for me so far, but thanks,” I avert my gaze. For a second, we don’t look at each other. He moves a step away from me. my eyes return to his face, focused on the door.

“Name’s Anne.”

His eyes whips to me, and he smirks.

“Nice to meet ya.”

Then the door opens, and he quickly moves to block me from sight of the thugs who walk through, back to me.

“Sage, you old dog!” a bandit whistles, “Thought that was you prowlin’.”

“Why the hell’d you kick me in the stomach!” a Crook shouts.

Sage’s ears flatten before perking up again, and I shrink into the wall while he squares up to the thugs.

“You know, you’ve just got one of those kickable stomachs.” He nods away, “Now scram, can’t you see I’m busy here?”

My face flushes, but I avoid speaking by pulling my hair and biting my lip.

“Guards are comin’,” the bandit says, “We thought we might take a trip to their armory, nick a thing or two.” He nods, “we could always use muscle. ‘less you’re too busy necking.”

Sage levels them with a cold glare, “sounds like unpaid work. You know I don’t crawl out of bed for less than 10 silver.”

The Crook snorts, “Yeah, but I hear you’ll warm any bed for half a’ that!”

The two thugs laugh, and it sounds a lot like the kind of laugh gross men at my job back home would have. Gross, enough to make your skin crawl and wish you were anywhere but there.

However, Sage’s growl is even more intimidating than their gross laughter.

“I could kick your asses for free. Howzzat for a deal?”

Sage growls—which I feel more than hear—and his smile is more Feral than it is friendly.

It works, the thugs flinch away—much like my instincts tell me to.

The Crook scoffs, “maybe we’ll tell your old pack where you been hidin’ instead.”

“Yeah!” the Thug says as they back away, “watch your back, fleabag!”

He looks after them, smiling so satisfied I wonder if he enjoys this. He turns his predatory gaze to me, and I flinch away from the full force of it’s red intensity. He seems to notice what he looks like, and his eyes widen before fading back to liquid gold.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

I swallow thickly, then, braver than I feel, and voice a little shaky, “what for? Saving me?” I shake my head, “don’t apologize for being kind.”

He blinks, eyes wide in shock as I pass him. Then I think he smirks, as he is as he catches up to me.

“You’re weird.”

For a second, he sounds like a girl from my high school—‘you’re weird’ I’d heard her say all too often. I smile.

“So they say.”

Suddenly I remember why I’m here.

“Anisa and Felix are looking for you,” I say, turning my gaze to Sage. I watch as his ears flatten, and he averts his gaze.

“Felix and Anisa came here? To see me?” he clicks his tongue, “idiots. May as well have doused themselves in blood and sat on a cockatrice’s nest.”

Though I know what a cockatrice is from the last game, the comparison is a bit odd.

“A dangerous thing to do,” I note. He nods.

“I’m not the type you want to hang around.”

I roll my eyes, “highly doubt that. I don’t think Annie and Felix are the type to associate with the bad sort of people.”

He grunts. “You don’t know that.”

“you protected a complete stranger from harm,” I shrug, “that’s good enough for me for now.”

He rolls his eyes, moving to open the door.

“Let’s just go.”


	4. Annie and Sage and Felix and Anne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang hang out.

By the time night falls on Mournfall once more, we’ve returned to Anisa’s study, ready to discuss the plan for returning me home. Felix establishes that a relic—presumably the Astrolabe—has taken residence within me, and I was asked to choose a mentor.

It was a no-brainer who I’d choose, being a sucker for magic, and having clicked with him so quickly.

(I chose Felix.)

It was pretty much unanimously decided that my first day would be dedicated to getting me some clothes. That was the priority, as I couldn’t walk around in what is essentially guest underwear.

After a quick breakfast with Anisa in the barracks, we venture out to the marketplace, where Sage and Felix are waiting.

“Are you two coming as well?” I ask, a little surprised. Sage huffs.

“We have our own errands,” he shrugs, “well. Felix does. I’m just browsin’.”

Felix huffs, “didn’t you say you spent all the money I gave you?”

Sage grins, “Who says I’m payin’?”

Anisa sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose as Felix shrugs in a ‘fair enough’ gesture.

“We’ll accompany you,” Felix tells me, “but Annie will be the one helping you pick out clothes.” He smiles, “the cost is on me, so don’t hold back.”

I flush, “What? I can’t—that’s not necessary.”

Felix shrugs, “there’s not much above my budget in this dreary town. So please. Help yourself,” he says, handing me a satchel.

I pout, “I’m not winning this one, I presume?”

He grins, “you have little choice, Barista.”

I sigh, taking the pouch. It’s heavy.

“Well then,” Anisa claps her hands, “are we ready?”

I nod, pocketing the satchel, “Ready. Let’s get moving.”

Xxx

As Anisa and I peruse stands of clothing, Anisa asks questions about earth.

“Is it true that there is no magic? Anywhere?”

Her question makes me chuckle quietly, “Not in the way you have here, no.” I pick up a cute hairpin of cheap metal, painted to look expensive, “if you look for it, you can find magic in mundane things, like thunderstorms, or sunrises. We have witchcraft, but you can’t really…see it?”

“How do you mean?”

“well, you can cast spells for protection, and love, but there’s not really a way to prove it works…it all relies on your belief. We have divination, and it’s fairly popular.”

Anisa scoffs, “don’t let Felix hear that. He doesn’t trust in such things.”

I laugh, shaking my head, “why does that not surprise me?”

Anisa laughs as we head towards the vendor to pay for our finds. I hum, wondering to myself if I would be able to do tarot readings here, like I do at home.

“What are you laughing about?” when I hear Felix’s voice I am torn from my thoughts, and realize we’ve joined him and Sage at a weaponry booth. Sage doesn’t seem too impressed with the vendor’s display.

“oh, nothing!” Anisa giggles, waving him off, “just a little girl talk!” she winks at me. I chuckle.

“You know,” Felix crosses his arms, “that could be just about anything.”

“We know,” Anisa says with a grin. Felix rolls his eyes, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes my lips.

“We were talking about magic on earth,” I tell him, gaining his attention, “and how you can’t really see it in action, and it’s based on if you believe in it or not.”

He quirks a brow, “and do you?”

I smile, “yeah. I’ve always loved stories involving magic, so, naturally, once I found out I could practice it, I did.”

“It’s not common knowledge?” Anisa asks.

“No,” I shake my head, “many think you’re working with the devil, or that you’re just imagining it, and it’s fake.”

Felix huffs, “they’re fools.”

“They are,” I nod, “in my opinion, there’s no such thing as dark and light magic…since magic is just a tool, and it all depends on how you use that tool.”

I look up from my feet, finding Felix’s face, and feeling a swell of pride at seeing his smile, and sparkling eyes.

He opens his mouth to speak, but Sage beats him to the punch.

“With exceptions, right?”

I frown, feeling annoyed at how often I’ve heard that argument.

“No,” I say, leaving little room to argue, “no exceptions.” I shake my head, “let’s go to the next place. I think I saw something interesting over there.”

And with that we expertly avoid an argument—thank gods.

Xxx

**_Felix_ **

We end up having lunch in the forest near the barracks with food bought at the market. Before joining us, Anne announces, she’ll change into her new clothes. As we unload our bag of food for our picnic—which was Anne’s suggestion—we fall into conversation.

“She seemed kind of resigned when we met,” Sage hums, relaxing on a tree stump nearby, “but today she was kind of uh. Feisty.”

“Passionate is I think a better word,” Anisa muses. “A little shy, but passionate nonetheless.”

“She’s talkative once given a chance,” I say, sitting down on the blanket Anisa had laid out, “I think she just doesn’t know how to take that chance if not offered to her.”

Anisa hums with a nod, “you’re right. When you asked her about what she does, she talked about her stories for half an hour.”

“Are you complaining?” I ask, taking a roll, “I thought her stories were quite interesting.”

“Agreed,” Anisa grins.

“What’re you all talking about?”

Anne’s voice cuts through the air from a distance, drawing our gazes to see her approach.

She was tall before but with the added height of her new boots she _looks_ tall. She’s wearing an outfit of whites and reds—a red skirt, a white blouse with a black sleeveless turtleneck, with reddish brown bracers and a corset. The entire look feels autumny, and suits her exquisitely.

The jewelry I’d found and wanted to gift her as an apology for bringing her here sits heavy in my pocket. A necklace set with a skull theme. I didn’t even know if she’d like it.

I don’t even know why I felt the need to apologize.

Something was tugging at me to apologize, but since meeting yesterday we haven’t had the chance to talk alone, and I was uncertain about Anisa and Sage’s reactions.

“Felix?” the sound of my name on her lips tears me from my thoughts, and I flinch.

“I..yes? My apologies, I was…” I bite my lip, “deep in thought.”

“Right,” Sage purrs, “ _thought_.”

His tone is enough to know he is implying I was checking Anne out, and based on her suddenly very red cheeks as she crosses her arms and looks away, as well as Anisa’s eye roll, we all know it.

“Grow up,” I grumble, reaching for the thermos of tea.

Anne slowly sits down on the blanket between Anisa and me, biting her lip furiously, face still very red. She seems…uncomfortable.

“You look good in that!” Anisa says with a smile.

Anne blinks, then smiles, “Thank you. I’m pretty happy with my choice too,” she laughs. The wind ruffles her hair, and I look away.

_Why?_

Somehow Anne had managed to start a conversation about fighting styles, and caused Sage and Anisa to launch into a full discussion about it. I sigh, wondering still why I felt like I had to look away from her.

“Are you alright?” I turn to the source of the voice—Anne—with wide eyes, only to find her leaning towards me, her head tilted to the side, “you look anxious.”

I feel my cheeks warm at her curious gaze—at her concern for me—and clear my throat.

“I’m fine,” I cough, “you need not worry about me, Barista.”

She hums, frowning, scanning me, then giving a small smile and a nod.

“Okay,” she says, leaning back, “if you say so.”

She returns her focus to Sage and Anisa, who have somehow begun sparring.

Anisa lands a hit on Sage (to no one’s surprise), and Anne laughs excitedly, clapping.

“That was amazing! You’re so fast! Both of you!” Anne comments. Anisa puffs out her chest with a satisfied smile, while Sage grins wolfishly.

“Maybe you should learn some basic moves too,” Anisa suggests, a hand on her chin, “just in case.”

“In case I can’t use magic?” Anne questions, she quirks a brow, “so…if I run out?”

“Yes, exactly,” I nod, “but also if you struggle with it, having a backup plan in case of an emergency.”

She frowns, and I realize I probably should’ve phrased it differently as I watch her deflate. Luckily, Annie is quick to come to my rescue—

“He means,” she says, placing a hand on her shoulder, “that magic is difficult, and a lot of people struggle in the beginning. So, in case that’s the case for you…” she shrugs.

Anne straightens, a strained smile on her lips—apparently it’s enough to fool Sage and Annie—as she nods.

“Right. Yeah. That’s be good, then.”

Anisa and Sage grin, beginning to work out a schedule immediately, and missing entirely the worried furrow in her brow, and the way she bites her lip.

It makes me wonder what I said to make her suddenly worry so much—

But then she catches me staring, and gives me a big, honest smile.

And if I think I feel my heart stop.

(though I had no idea why.)

Xxx

We decide to start magic lessons the following morning, dedicating the rest of the afternoon to simply talking. As it turns out, Anne has quite the interest in our world as a whole.

“I was a story driven player,” she says, hugging her knees, “so I didn’t get in on a lot of lore outside of theories, so…tell me about your cultures!”

And just like that, Sage started talking about his culture, and Anisa talked about growing up in a port town. Anne interjected here and there with her own stories about…being a woman of color, Jewish, with vitiligo. All words I hadn’t heard of before, really.

In all of their excitement I felt little need to interrupt—except for a snarky remark here and there—as I was also busy making lesson plans for Anne.

I was far more excited about a chance to teach someone than anything else, if I am being frank. Even if the situation that led to it was…less than favorable.

And just like that I’m thinking of him again…and of how I failed him.

“Are you ok?”

The soft question makes me open my eyes and lift my gaze—finding Anne standing in front of the couch, in a now dimly lit study, holding and armful of blankets.

“What? Ah, yes. I am. Alright.” I clear my throat. “Why?”

“You seemed spaced out,” she shrugs, sitting down beside me, “um. In a. Sad way, I guess.” She bites her lip, eyes scanning me softly, “I don’t know what you’re thinking but. You have people who care about you, and worry for you. Sage, and Anisa…”

“And yet you’re the only one to pick up on it.”

The words come out of my mouth before I can even process thinking them, and it leaves her wide eyed and blinking.

“I—” her face darkens in color, a blush decorating brown cheeks, “I’m just. Very perceptive. And I—” she chokes on her words, grip on her blankets tightening. “I…know that expression. Cus’ I’ve done it. a lot.”

I quirk a brow, pursing my lips, “and what expression may that be?”

Her shoulders sag, a sigh leaving her lips.

“Sadness,” my breath catches, “loneliness. Incredible…crushing loneliness.”

“I—” my voice comes out as a squeak, and I clear my throat, cheeks burning.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I sigh, getting up. “It’s gotten late,” I look over my shoulder at her, “I best be going. You should…sleep.”

She pauses, blinking at me. then, she smiles, giving a curt nod.

“Sleep well,” I say, walking for the exit.

“You too,” she says as I place my hand on the doorframe. At the sound of her voice I pause, looking over my shoulder at her.

She smiling, a small little smile, hands cupping her face as she rests her elbows on the blankets.

She’s surprisingly pretty, drowned in candle and moonlight.

I clear my throat, nod curtly, then hurry out of the study, which is suddenly very much too warm.


	5. Back to School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix begins to teach Anne.

Anne is creative.

She’s creative, smart and passionate. All key things when it comes to magic.

And yet…

After 2 full days, she hasn’t mastered a single spell yet.

…and it seems to be wearing on her confidence.

On the evening of the second day, she is poking at the open book, a pout on her lips. Though the sight is amusing, I hate being of no help.

The following morning, she isn’t in the study when I arrive.

I purse my lips, dropping my bag on the chair before heading out of the study in search of her.

I start in the courtyard, where Anisa is surveying the training of squires.

“Annie!” I call out, probably sounding a little more desperate than I intended.

“Felix,” her eyes widen, “good morning.”

“Hail and well met,” I glance around, “have you seen Anne?”

“Anne?” she licks her lips, “I haven’t, but she usually takes a walk down the forest path after breakfast. You could try there.”

I groan, rolling my eyes, knowing that I’ll have to walk the widing path to actually find her, as opposed to teleporting to wherever she is.

“Right. Thank you,” I spin on my heel, heading for the forest.

Xxx

I find her sitting in a clearing, or a tree stump, poking the soft patch of earth with a stick. There’s an impressive pout on her lips, brows furrowed.

“You found me,” she mutters, looking up as I approach, then, with a sarcastic drawl, “miss your star pupil already?”

She turns back to glare at the dirt, and I huff.

“yes,” I say, making her pause, “believe it or not, you’re a far better student than Sage.”

She snorts, quirking a brow, “oh? Even though I haven’t managed a single spell?”

I shrug, “you’re new to this world, and magic is hard to master. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. You haven’t tried casting yet, anyway.”

“Bet it was easy for you,” she grumbles. I don’t give her an answer—she’s right.

“What happened?” I ask, “you were so excited to learn, and you’re giving up already?” I shake my head, “seriously, you can’t—”

**_“I’m not giving up!”_ **

Her voice is loud, filled with rage I haven’t seen from her, and when I meet her eyes, she’s glaring at me coldly, and I feet myself rooted to the spot.

Her anger is an ocean, the waves threatening to consume me it their entirety.

“what _happened_ ,” she says, voice a little less than a sneer, “is I’m reminded I will never be _gifted_. That every skill I learn will come at the price of _blood_ , and _sweat_ , and **tears**. I am reminded of the fact that I will _always_ have to work 5 times harder to get the bare minimum, because my brain is _broken_ and there is **no** _cure_.”

Her voice breaks, emotion staining her impressive speech.

“Nothing comes without practice,” I say cautiously, “but…you know that. You said it yourself, two days ago.”

Her tense shoulders go lax with a sigh, “yes. Nothing in life comes without trying first…but most people don’t need 15 support beams to get them up that first step.” She gasps her arms, nails digging into the fabric of her blouse, “I _never_ get to be good at things. I am only ever _okay_ at them. I never get to have good grades, or learn like a _normal_ person. I need _special treatment_ , and I’m **_tired_** of having to fight my way for a _crumb_ of success!”

Again, her voice cracks, and tears line her eyes. I am stunned into silence but her outburst—which is still not concluded.

“Every time I try to learn, I need 15 different mind tricks and shortcuts to stay on track, because my dumbass ADHD brain doesn’t know how to be **NORMAL**!”

She drops her head into her hands, and her rant finally comes to a close.

“I have never been naturally good at anything, since magic,” I say carefully, quietly.

She lifts her head slightly.

“and, to be fair, being gifted at conjuring magic doesn’t mean I had a talent for the rules of the craft. I could conjure magic, yes, but on accident, or as an emotional response. It took time to conjure it at will, and refrain from it when emotionally charged.”

I kneel down in front of her.

“I will not pretend to know how you feel…how this situation feels, but I will tell you that no one has ever found magic simple.” I falter. “Well, aside from my father, who some say forged a pact with a demon to become so powerful.”

This, is apparently incredibly funny to her—enough so, at least, to elicit a chuckle.

I smile, glad I could cheer her up somewhat.

“I promise you,” I say, taking her hands on a whim, “you will learn to conjure magic. You will learn the rules, and how to use your magic. I feel it burning within you, brightly, and I know you will be able to channel it. Your passion, and your creativity will be paramount to that. Please,” I meet her gaze—wide eyed with flushed cheeks—and I whisper, “Trust me on this.”

For a moment, she’s silent, lips parted slightly, eyes shining with tears, cheeks flushed.

And then she smiles. And she nods.

“okay,” she shrugs, “I trust you.”

I smile. “Thank you.”

I hum. “We haven’t attempted casting yet,” I tilt my head, “what makes you think you will struggle with it?”

She doesn’t reply immediately. I’m about to tell her she doesn’t have to, but she holds up a hand.

“Give me a moment,” she says, “I need to organize my thoughts.”

I nod, knowing the feeling all too well.

“It’s…I’m scared I won’t succeed. That I’ll just waste your time…that fear of failure…has always held me back.”

I frown, “You’d never be a waste of time.”

She smiles, “Thank you.” she wrings her hands, then drums them against her knee, obviously considering something.

“What are you thinking?” I ask, finding myself genuinely wondering.

She bites her lip. “Can I...talk about something? About myself…”

I nod, a little faster than necessary, “of course.”

She takes a deep breath. “…I was never good at school, my parents had to tutor me—them being teachers—and it still did little to help. My math homework…at one point we just gave up, and my dad did it for me, and I copied it. my parents were never disappointed or upset…but I was.” She shakes her head, “they were worried, above all else, which was pretty bad, cus’ there was nothing I could do or say to reassure them. My sister was so much better at me, and that just made me feel dumber.”

She heaves a deep, heavy sigh, “in all honesty, I’m surprised I’ve made it this far.”

She shakes her head. “I went to a school full of rich kids. I wasn’t from a rich family, and I felt very alone. The people I could rely on…were my family. My siblings, and my parents.”

I frown, “if you pardon my asking…what changed?”

Her gaze is faraway, resigned.

“They died in an accident.”

My breath catches once more, and my heart lurches in my chest. Not noting my reaction, she presses on.

“It was…a truck crashed into our car…and, and according to the doctors, there was no way a normal person should have been able to survive that,” she shrugs, a morbid smile on red lips, “and yet…here I am.”

“You’re special,” I whisper, barely aware of my words, “so…of course you would.”

She blinks, then chuckles.

“Thanks, but I’m not all that great.” She takes a deep breath and stands up. “It was a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry you had to suffer through that.”

She shrugs, “it happens. That’s life, shit happens, and then we die.”

I give her a smirk, quirking a brow in question.

“My dad used to say that,” she stretches her arms over her head, and I eye the arch of her back.

Suddenly it’s very hard to breathe as she lets out a groan.

“So, let’s take his advice, and keep moving forward.” She sighs, “I just. Needed to get that out of my system…sorry for using you as my…metaphorical punching bag.”

I frown, “punching bag?”

“uh…like, a training dummy but it’s a bag of sand hanging from the ceiling.”

“Ah…I see,” I shake my head, “I’m glad I could help.”

She gives me one of her big grins, and I feel myself staggering to follow as she heads towards the barracks.

Xxx

Anne is an open person, but I note that she doesn’t bring up things if they aren’t the topic of conversation—proven by the fact that it’s the 5th day of her stay here, and Annie and Sage still are unaware of her lack of a family.

Annie often will promise Anne to bring her home to her family, clearly not sensing her apprehension.

Sage often says that he’s sure her family will be happy to see her, not seeing her wistful smile.

And they always change the topic before she can speak up.

It’s a strangely…positive feeling…being the one person she confided that information it—it makes my heart flutter and cheeks burn.

Throughout the days, I find myself gravitating towards her, and winding up having conversations lasting well into the night.

And I find myself weirdly interested in her sparring sessions with Anisa outside the study.

Today is one of the mornings where I find myself watching her spar, as opposed to planning our lesson.

Anne is wielding a quarterstaff, and lands a surprisingly powerful blow on Annie. As the fact sinks in that she startled Annie—though not breaking her defenses—a satisfied smirk decorates her lip, and the sight of that, as well as the sweat trickling down her neck has me feeling hot myself, a warmth coiling in my stomach.

“Enjoying the view?”

“AHH!”

Sage’s voice suddenly tears me from my…observing, and I reflexively shriek, flinching as far away as I can get without jumping across the room.

“ _Sage_ ,” I hiss, clutching my chest, “what in the hells— _where_ did you come from!?”

He blinks, expression blank. “The door,” he nods back, then regards me with a smirk, “the better question is, what’re you looking at?~”

I flush, glaring at the wall, “I was…observing.”

“Right. Observing Anne’s butt I bet.”

The grin on his face is decidedly wolfish, and I scoff in disgust.

“What?! No! I’m not you, Sage.”

He simply chuckles, striding over with his hands in his pockets, “hah! But your reaction proves you hidin’ something.”

I pout, crossing my arms. “Am not.”

“You like her,” he states. It’s not a question.

“She’s kind,” I reply, “and passionate and fun. She doesn’t…” _make fun of me_ , “disregard me.”

_She makes me feel safe._

“She’s pretty funny,” Sage agrees with a nod, “Anisa and I like her too.”

_Like_.

I wonder why she was so alone, when she seems to get along with everyone she meets.

“I need to study,” I mutter, “be quiet or leave.”

Sage growls at me, “fine. Then I’ll just go spar with them.”

And then he’s gone.

The only sound is the distant sound of wood clashing against wood, and Anne’s exclaims of exhaustion.

I’m not really reading the book I open when I sit down, thoughts of Anne consuming my mind and serving a calming distraction.

An hour later, Anne and I are sitting in the study together, and Anne is trying to get the same feather to float she’s been working with since last night.

“I can’t do this.”

Her voice cuts through the quiet, accompanied by a groan, and I can’t help but offer a half smile at her outburst. 

“Well, well, well, I had not imagined my apprentice so easily flustered.” I hum, resting my head on my knuckles, “Do not give in to frustration. Naar Vilar was not built in a single day.”

“That’s a place, I’m presuming?” she gives me a playful smirk, and eyebrow quirked.

“Correct. It’s a Velan saying,” I close my book, easing off my glasses, “have patience, dear Barista. You will harness your magic.”

Xxx

**Anne**

“Have patience, dear barista. You will harness your magic.”

As he says that, I can’t help but genuinely believe him.

I hum, “Was it hard for you?”

“Well, I was practically born slinging spells. Though, that is on account of my…unusual birth,” he shakes off my confused look with the shake of his head, “but that does not mean I understood the practice and laws of it. on that account, you are further ahead than most wizards.”

I hum, tapping my lip.

“However,” he says, “in my second year I gave my caretaker quite the scare. Dear Anat happened upon me setting at my stuffed toys ablaze.”

I can’t help the bewildered—albeit delighted—look on my face as I splutter:

“you _what_?”

He lets out a dry bark of laughter, and I can’t help but smile at the sound, feeling pride for making him laugh.

“yes, I’m told she nearly quit right then. No harm was done, aside for the dolls.” He heaves a dreamy sigh, “ah, how I do treasure those melted monstrosities.”

I chuckle, though my insecurities well back to the surface. Despite talking about it a few days ago, I find myself asking again:

“Have you considered the chance that I just can’t do magic?”

He fixes me with a serious look, pressing his palms together. He steeples his fingers at me.

“don’t be absurd. I told you before—you have magic within you, lots of it.” his gray eyes fix me with such intensity I feel heat throughout my whole body, “it burns within your breast like a smoldering ember. When you are ready it will spark, leaping into flames.”

I hum, biting my nail as my mind whirls.

“it’s like there’s…” I wave my hands vaguely, “I can’t describe it but it’s like I know it’s there I feel it too but it just—is stuck. Like it needs…something to help start it.”

For a second, we both find ourselves glaring at the table, searching our brains for an answer. Then, at the same time, we gasp, and point at each other, exclaiming:

“A catalyst!”

I grin, mirroring his expression, and a second later he jumps up, slips on his glasses as he summons a book into his palm as he speaks:

“What you need is a catalyst,” the book opens, the pages fluttering, “for some, magic comes as easily as breathing or blinking, for others it requires a little help to get started. And others again may never learn the craft—” he looks at me over the rim of his glasses, “I suggest never asking Sage to demonstrate his _talents_.”

“I’m going to assume,” I drawl, “like with being unable to summon food or drink, there is no spell for jump starting magic, correct?”

He smiles, nods, “you’re smart. That’s a start.”

I find myself flustered, now, and I glance away.

“knowledge is the sharpest blade of all,” he continues, “and you have the basics down, and the rest—I can provide.”

His gaze is sharp, stealing my breath and leaving me stunned.

“Why, during my studies—”

In the middle of his speech I am filled with an incredible dizziness, and I waver where I sit, dropping my head into my hands with a sharp breath. I take a moment to settle my suddenly erratic heartbeat, before looking up again, my fingers pressing my temples.

Felix looks concerned, his brows creased in worry—and my heart aches, and I yearn to smoothen his brows out.

“Are you feeling well?” he asks, “you look a bit unsteady.”

I groan, “just…ah, dizzy. It’s nothing.”

He frowns, “you shouldn’t brush of your pain,” he huffs, “it’s your body telling you to take it easy, so you oughta listen.”

Hypocrite.

“that being said,” he hums, voice soft, “magic exhausts both mentally and physically. You must take care not to overwork yourself.”

I nod carefully.

Then I remember the night I arrived—he performed a ritual, opened two portals, and if I had to wager I guess, I doubt just any normal mage could perform such exhausting-seeming feats of magic in one night.

“is that why you mistook me for that ‘Rime’ person?”

The question leaves my mouth, and I instantly regret it as a feeling of regret and grief flash across his features. But he is also blushing, clearly remembering hugging me, and that burning hand kiss that I felt for the rest of the day.

“A-as you know, exhaustion comes in many forms,” he stutters, “dizziness, weakness, even hallucinations. “ he clears his throat, “the hour grows late. Let us call it a night.”

I nod.

I briefly entertain the idea of asking if I could go to magic school, but I wave it off as we begin tidying up the study. I don’t fancy the idea of another damned school setting, and somehow I feel that I may hate magic school just as much as normal school.

Apparently Felix is in just as deep a thought, as he careless knocks into a teapot, and, instinctually, we both dive to catch it—

And in the process, his hand comes to rest atop mine, atop the porcelain.

Our eyes meet, and for a moment, all is quiet.

Then, he gasps, cheeks burning.

“Oh!” he pulls his hands back, shakes them, then rakes them through his hair. “My…my thanks. I’ll uh, take my, er…leave.”

And just like that he’s rushing out of the study.

The teacup floats, suspended in the air all night.

Xx

**Felix**

When I open my eyes, I feel a warmth on my cheek.

“Morning Lov—” I begin, only to gasp when I recognize Anne—the real one—standing before me, hand pressed to my cheek, her own cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

She doesn’t look disgusted, simply surprised, I note.

“oh!” I flinch away, sitting upright, “my apologies!”

My cheeks burn, and in my haste to move away, I send a quill rolling off the table. 

“I was, uh…just…” I splutter, wracking my brain for an excuse as I right my glasses.

“Having a nice dream?”

Her voice is gentle and when I spare a glance her way, her cheeks are pink eyes shining, and a hand is brushing red curls off her shoulder.

It’s adorable.

“it looked like you were,” she adds.

I feel my cheeks burn, as I remember the dream, “Was I…?”

Even after simply a week, she consumes all my thoughts.

It’s…distracting.

I yawn, rubbing the corner of my eye before resting my chin on my hand. She takes a seat, tucking a foot between herself and the chair. I smile, tapping my foot on the wooden beam of the chair I’ve tucked it behind.

“did you stay up all night again?” she asks, then tuts, “maybe we should skip lessons today—”

“Nonsense,” I interrupt, “all I require is some sustenance.”

**Anne**

My palm still burns as Felix pokes experimentally at a scone and speaks.

“I haven’t fallen asleep in my books since…well, since I was a student.” He chuckles, “I used to lose myself in study, and even slept in the library a couple times.” He gives a half-smile, “never imagined I’d almost miss those days.”

I tilt my head, “you don’t talk about your school days much.” I lean forward, shifting to sit on my knees, “in fiction on earth, wizards ride brooms and have wands. Is that accurate?”

He scoffs, quirking a brow, “No. Why in the hells would you ride a broom? That sounds uncomfortable—” I laugh, “—but some may chose to wield staffs. I am not one of those, as you know.”

I nod.

“I studied history, political science and etiquette,” he glances at me, “all very dry.”

“Sounds like it,” I muse, “So it’s not all pointy hats and long beards?” I joke with a smirk.

He straightens, wincing when his back cracks—and I barely manage not to laugh.

“You, my friend,” he says, and I feel myself grin at the endearment, “have some very odd ideas about mages.”

I shrug, ignoring my heart thrumming against my ribs, “blame the earthling authors.”

He hums, expression growing somber.

“I am a highborn mage,” he explains, “which comes with expectations…the path I was to follow had been decided for me even before my birth. I enrolled in the academy,” his voice becomes airy, “excelled until I didn’t,” his voice returns to it’s normal state, “and found myself alone and penniless.”

“gifted kid syndrome.”

“Pardon?”

“Gifted kid syndrome,” I explain, “you were considered gifted or intelligent for knowing more, but when you didn’t know something, you didn’t know how to study, because you never had to.”

He blinks, apparently stunned into silence.

“Yes,” he croaks, “yes, that is exactly what happened.”

He clears his throat, a faint flush on his cheeks.

“Did you finish your schooling?” I ask.

He shrugs, “I never had the chance. They wanted me gone before then.”

I frown, the words processing slowly.

“Wait,” I say, “Felix, were you kicked out of magic school?”

His lips press together, and by his wide eyed look, I’ve hit the nail on the head. He grumbles, brows furrowed as he picks at his lip.

“Yes, I admit it. I was expelled.”

I grin, leaning forward some more, “What did you _do_?”

He smirks, crossing his arms, “what _didn’t_ I do? I was a regular menace.” His expression neutralizes, “can you imagine spending nearly 16 years being told what to think, how to behave, how to live…” he shakes his head, “I grew tired of the stuffy academics and predetermined ways to learn, and the haughty, shallow aristocratic brats.” He smirks, a dangerous glint in his eyes making my heart leap, “so, I sought to sabotage myself.”

I laugh, incredulous but impressed. “What did you do? A huge prank?”

He grins, “Naturally. What bored teenager doesn’t love a good prank? _”_

He tells stories of releasing chimeras into the dorms, having labelled them 1 and 3, and of releasing frogs into the cafeteria during the lunch rush.

And I sink into the chair, head in my palm as I listen to him with a smile on my face. His voice is silky smooth, calming, and has my heart beating loudly within my chest all at the same time.

He’s intoxicating.

Even if I barely know him.

“What is that?”

His voice falters, wavering once he sees the letter in my hand.

“Anisa gave it to me,” I say, handing it over, “for you.” I let out a nervous laugh, running a hand through my hair, “sorry, got distracted.”

“It’s no problem,” he says, eyes closed, and the letter promptly bursts into flame, “I’d rather you just burn such missives in the future.”

I frown. The crest on the wax seal in still burnt into my mind. I assume Felix must have trouble with whoever sent it.

In an attempt to lighten the mood I playfully salute him, "Yes sir!"

He stiffens, a flush spreading across his cheeks, and I immediately regret speaking.

"Sorry," I mutter.

He huffs, "It's fine."

He sighs, dusting off his hands, “it’s as though the universe conspires to annoy me today.”

And as if on cue, Sage bursts through the door.


	6. [NSFW] Dream of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix's dream during his nap.

**Felix**

Anne is sparring with Anisa by the time I have already settled into the study. It takes little time for the quiet of the room to lull me into a light sleep.

My dream, however, is fairly lovely.

I suppose the image of Anne sweating and flushed has been burnt into my mind from watching her train for a week, as that is precisely how my dream begins.

I’m leaning over her naked, flushed form, with my fingers buried in her folds. She’s whining and squirming, hair fanned out like a halo around her.

“Please,” she begs, voice a long whine, back arching.

I smirk, “please what?”

“please,” she rasps, eyes opening and burning like embers, “fuck me.”

My breath stutters, but then I lean in to kiss her with a low growl—“with pleasure, my love.”

She whines again as I curl my fingers, making her gasp, back arching. I move my fingers, alternating between rubbing her clit, and inside her pussy, and the gasps and moans she makes are—

Intoxicating.

I’d listen to them forever if I could.

Then her hand moves, and I grab her wrist, pressing her palm to my cheek, and I smile.

And then—

“Felix!?”

My eyes open.


	7. Announcement (Author's Note)

I've decided to rework this fic, as I am now all caught up with the story in-game. As such, I will be reuploading it as a new fic. The new fic is called The Graveyard Girl And The Necromancer, and is now live. 

I will be updating that fic once a week, excluding smut chapters which will be updated on the same day as the chapter they play in/after.

The story of Anne and Felix is far from over, and I can't wait to see what the developers will throw at me next.

(Let's hope they don't fuck it up.)


End file.
